


bad days and good days

by lcdysansa



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mates, picks up after ACOSF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdysansa/pseuds/lcdysansa
Summary: Lucien comes back to Velaris twice. / This obviously includes ACOSF spoilers.
Relationships: Elain Archeron & Feyre Archeron & Nesta Archeron, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	bad days and good days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello,
> 
> I just wanted to write some sort of beginning for Elain and Lucien for my poor lonely soul, but some of you guys might like it, too, so enjoy :)   
> Also I'm obsessed with tiny baby Illyrians, I couldn't NOT write about Nyx. 
> 
> Please forgive me any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Today is a dreadfully long day, and Elain could probably name about a dozen reasons why. Although spring is approaching quickly and trees are already starting to bud in Velaris, which is usually reason enough to put the young fae into a good mood, today is an exception, and all she wants to do at this point is to change into something comfortable, hide beneath thick blankets the way the sun is hiding too and daydream the day away. It had rained the entire night, and as Elain thuds through the still-wet streets of the city, the clouds hanging low beneath the snowy mountains, she contemplates the different approaches she can take to improve the garden of the small family she had just visited. The poor and still mourning female — probably grieving forever, Elain thinks — had just lost her mate in the war and had a youngling to raise, a job to get to, a small house to take care of.

There had been too much rain in the previous weeks, mostly at night, soaking the gardens, meadows and patches of the region, and many fae like the widow, either elderly or simply those with too many responsibilities, required and will still need Elain’s help in the future. Thinking of the volatile weather does not do much to improve her spirits now, no matter how much she loves tending to those gardens. And when she left the house early in the morning, Nyx, her sweet little nephew, was not having a much better time than Elain, crying, hiccupping, fussing after a restless night when not even Rhys could calm him down. Feyre assumed his teeth might start showing soon, but Elain isn’t sure if it was a little too early for that and that the problem might have something to do with his tiny sensitive wings growing. She cannot imagine that to be a pleasant experience.

Pushing the huge door to Feyre’s grand, picturesque yet homely palace open, there really is no other string of words to describe her sister’s home, Elain barely has to step in to detect the all-too-familiar scent of fire, cinnamon and something else, something so rare and delicate she still hasn’t figured it out even though she has spent countless hours at night tossing and turning in her bed thinking about it. Asking somebody else is out of question. Sometimes she thinks she is being quite bad at it — being fae. She knows nothing about their history or the different courts and their cultures, knows nothing about the way their bodies work, and knows even less about her own so-called “powers“ she dreads to even think about. But every day she is learning a bit more about this new life of hers, this new body of hers, is trying to find a purpose in it as she is slowly putting her human life behind. And she tells herself that is enough, for now.

But now _he_ is here, the one she tries so desperately not to think too much about, his scent filling her nostrils, and she grips the door knob a little tighter to steady herself. In her head, conversations from the previous days replay, trying to look for a sign of the male coming back to the city, of Feyre or Rhys hinting at it, implicitly making sure Elain would have time to prepare herself, but there is nothing. Had they forgotten to mention it? Or were they merely tired of coddling her? Elain closes the door softly, stepping out of her drenched shoes as her feet slide over the carpet trying to leave as little dirt and wetness behind as possible. She can’t make out if he is still there, but she hears no noise, when she steps into the drawing room.

Feyre is holding Nyx, rocking him in her arms, as she looks up to Elain and smiles. “Oh, I didn’t realise you’d be back so early.“ Her voice is soft and pleasant, trying not to disrupt the peace and quiet that currently reigns the house. Elain arches an eyebrow and says, equally softly,“He’s asleep?“

“He finally decided he was tired enough to close his eyes for a while, but I wouldn’t count on a calm evening.“

“What did you do?“ Elain asks, stepping a little closer to the her sister and the baby in her arms. He is hiding his face and all she can make out from his head is his gorgeous black hair. He really is unbearably cute. Elain hopes his current state to be a sign he isn’t in pain or discomfort any longer.

Feyre bites her lip but turns around to look outside the window, where even more clouds start to gather. It would be raining again soon. “Lucien stopped by this morning.“ She stops and for a moment Elain fears she might have sensed how rigid her body turned at the mention of his name. But Feyre doesn’t say anything about that. “Nyx loves him, I think. Maybe it’s the hair or his eye that interests him, but as soon as he entered the room, his entire focus was on Lucien, it was adorable.“

“Oh.“ She doesn’t know what to reply, or if Feyre expects her to say anything. Instead, she decides to just stare at mother and son until Feyre is gallant enough to change the subject or someone else enters the room. Maybe Rhys will be back soon. She doesn’t know where her sister’s mate had gone this morning. She still doesn’t know if _he_ is staying or why he was here, or if —

“He’s left again. Don’t overthink it.“

“You —,“ Elain starts, but Feyre interrupts her again, sitting down on the couch, and looking almost offended.

“I don’t have resort to invading your privacy to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Elain. I can see it all over your face.“

Elain blushes. She never wanted to be more like Nesta than right now, ever since drowning in that Cauldron actually. She admires her elder sister’s stoic manner and her ability to dismiss somebody, _anybody_ , with one single look. How she never seems to afraid of anything, or embarrassed. No, Elain thinks, Nesta has never been embarrassed in her life. Always too proud to show it if she was. And Feyre is right, she _is_ easily readable, but Elain never thought it was a quality one would like to have. It rather seems to be another weakness.

Feyre looks at her again. “I like it. It’s the human part of you. In that regard, you haven’t changed at all.“ Elain knows she means to comfort her, but her thoughts are already spiralling in all possible directions. She is thinking of the Cauldron, of her human life, her human father, she is thinking of how her dress and coat are still wet, dripping on the flawless floor, she is thinking of everything at once, but mostly she is thinking of Lucien and how his smell is all over this perfectly decorated room, how he had most likely sat on that armchair by the fire he always seemed to favour, how he had probably even held Nyx, and how the boy would have _smiled_ —

No. She steps back abruptly and Feyre smiles sadly. “As I said, he left again, gone back to Vassa and Jurian and their arguments, and he won’t be back for a while, I think.“

“I don’t care,“ Elain retorts and immediately flinches. Feyre knows she doesn’t like to talk about the whole thing, she doesn’t even dare say the word, doesn’t like to think about it. She can still feel the tug at her ribs, she can feel it every day, even in her sleep, and has been tempted more than once to feel it out again, that bond she tries to ignore most of the time. Sometimes, she even imagines hearing his heartbeat even when he isn’t in the city and she doesn’t understand it all. “Sorry,“ she whispers after a few seconds. “Did he …?“ But she doesn’t finish the question. She feels like a coward then, too afraid to face whatever it was between them, but too afraid to reject and run from it, too. It feels like she is being held down in deep waters, unable to move and permanently stuck in a moment between drowning and struggling to get free.

“He didn’t say anything. He just … updated me and we talked, but no, you didn’t come up.“ Her little sister almost sounds sorry then. Elain doesn’t want to hear it.

“Fine. I just,“ she pauses. “I’ll go change and read a little. I did all I could do in the garden today, but we have to wait for the earth beneath to absorb all the water. I might even plant a few flowers in a few days. I’ll have to see.“ And without waiting for Feyre’s reply, Elain turns around and flees into her rooms thinking about what a truly terrible day it is. 

_____________________________

The next time she sees Lucien is three weeks after he visited Feyre. Spring has finally arrived, but with it came the soft and warm spring rain Elain had always cherished as a child. Nyx’ new favourite activity is screeching as loudly as he can until he has won everybody’s attention and he does not stop until he has everyone around him cooing. Elain is sitting with Nesta on the lawn by the flowers as Nyx tries crawling to a particularly pretty tulip, red and white blossoms open up slightly as the flower stretches towards the sun.

Nesta laughs at his attempts as Elain picks him up, holding him close to her chest and planting a kiss on his head. “He tries his best. He’s so active, I can’t even bring myself to think of how exhausting it will be once he figures out how to use those gorgeous wings of his.“

Her sister grins. “They’re going to have to put him on a leash.“

Elain laughs at that. “I’d like to see Cassian try to babysithim then for just once afternoon — all by himself. Though I have a feeling he’d surprise at all.“

“Please, Elain, don’t give him any ideas. I’m not ready for all that yet.“ But Elain can see a small smile blooming on her lips. And before she can reply, before anyone really notices, she can sense him, feel the blazing aura that always seems to surround him, and shifts Nyx in her arms so that she can catch a glimpse of him as he steps out of the house.

She tries to fight the blush desperately, but can’t help it creeping up her cheeks as she looks at him, and she feels like a fawn all over again, like she had when she had come out of the Cauldron, barely able to stand on her feet, heart beating in her chest as fast as the wings of a hummingbird, but here she is blushing like a fool.

He glances at her briefly before making his way to Cassian. _He looks so regal_ , she thinks before she can stop it. And the bond between them, inside her, it becomes vibrant and alive within seconds, like it hasn’t been collecting dust during the previous weeks, neglected by both Elain and the red-haired male. She’s so lost in thoughts, she doesn’t even notice Rhys approaching until the boy screeches in her arms, holding his arms out to his father. Smiling sheepishly, she wanders off into the gardens after Rhys takes his son. Nesta had already left, presumably to stand beside Cassian, Elain thinks as her fingertips brush against the Hydrangea petals, her favourite flowers.

It frustrates her to not know how to behave properly whenever he is around, but also that she does not quite know what do. She barely even knows the male and has not made an effort to get to know him, and Elain knows it is her fault. _He_ had tried. Feyre has tried helping them to spend some time together and lately even Nesta has started making remarks, sometimes so subtle that Elain didn’t know if it was intentional. And Azriel … she’s hardly spent any time with him for a few months now, but she finds herself thinking of the shadowsinger less and less often. But she doesn’t want to think of him now like she didn’t want to encourage him to think of her when she had given him back the gift he’d gotten her. Had tried to clear up that mess somehow.

And, like magic, all thoughts dissolve when Lucien approaches her, slowly and carefully. Elain tenses, turns and fights the urge to cringe. He looks like he’s trying not to startle a frightened animal, she thinks and an embarrassed flush paints her face red. “Hello Elain,“ he says gently, stopping a few steps in front of her to give her space. She catches herself thinking how much she sometimes hate how respectful he is because it just increases her guilt.

“Nobody told me you’d come as well,“ she replies and immediately regrets it, noticing the brief hurt that flashes across his face before he gets it under control. “Not that … not that I didn’t want you to come. I just mean, you haven’t been here in so long, and I … nobody told me you were coming, that’s all.“ She doesn’t think it could get any worse, but here she is, blushing like a thirteen year old girl, at a loss about what to do next.

“Ah,“ he nods like he understands what’s going on inside her mind, like he doesn’t think she’s as pathetic as she believes she is. “I have a feeling your house will be filled again soon. Mor is coming back, too.“ His mechanic eye rattles as he lowers his chin to look into her eyes.

“Oh, it’s not _my_ house. And … I guess I didn’t know that either,“ she replies, doesn’t know why she feels the need to point out the house situation and feels stupid again. She frowns. “Mor? I didn’t know you were, uh, close. Or that you knew where she was. Or when she’d be coming back, I suppose.“

Lucien looks up surprised and is silent for a moment. Elain can hear the others laugh and talk in the background, Nyx still squealing happily. A bird is chirping somewhere in a tree. It’s almost peaceful. “Mor and I have been getting along quite well lately. I know it’s probably a shock to most, but I enjoy her company and I guess she tolerates mine.“ The smile he gives her is crooked andso utterly charming, she finds herself desperate to continue the conversation. “Everybody knows you aren’t like your brothers,“ Elain says and looks down to her feet. Maybe she’s spent too much time outside today, either the sun is making her braver or she is getting a sunstroke. Maybe both.

Again, Lucien is silent. He’s probably as astonished as Elain herself. She doesn’t think she’s ever had a conversation this long with him. She’s being polite, she tells herself, remembering how Feyre told her not to overthink it a few weeks ago. _Or maybe_ , a tiny voice whispers inside her, _maybe you are afraid he turns away from you after you’ve ignored him for so long_. But that isn’t fair, she knows that. “Thank you,“ he says and when she looks at him this time, something in her chest tightens until she feels like she can’t keep breathing unless he keeps smiling at her like that for the rest of her life. She blinks and Lucien tilts his head, his hair brushing his shoulder, and he looks nervous. Elain almost snorts as she imagines the scene from an outside perspective. Two high fae standing awkwardly together, too aware of the other as they try to not look at each other in the eyes. It’s thrilling, and for a short moment, Elain blames the bond between them, buzzing loudly at the close proximity. But that’s not fair either, she knows that, too. Blaming the bond for every good and exciting emotion the male coaxes out of her. In the end, she will probably never know what the bond is and what it isn’t. When she gets annoyed at him giving her space, being oh-so-decent and respectful, she doesn’t blame the bond then. She simply wishes she had had time to adjust before … everything. But life is never that generous.

“Will you leave again?“ she blurts out and notices Feyre turning into her direction. She’s sitting on a bench by the big tree, huge amounts of food in front of her on the table. “I mean, do you have to leave again? To Vassa and Jurian.“

“Yes. No,“ he laughs, and she thinks he might be enjoying her flustered state. “I could stay for a while. They fight a lot, but I also know they secretly like whenever I leave them alone.“

“Mhm, yes,“ Elain clears her throat. “You could stay. You should stay if … I mean, you should stay if you think they need to be alone for a while.“ Here she is, blushing furiously again, or has she ever stopped? She can’t tell, starting to feel sick, and only when Feyre asks everyone to come to the tree, she’s prepared some kind of picnic for her guests, Elain allows herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Lucien offers her a smile and seconds later his arm. “I think I might stay for a while, indeed.“ And for the first time, she returns his smile freely and gleefully.


End file.
